


Setting Fire to the Rain

by molly2012



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molly2012/pseuds/molly2012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Ziva and Jenny met in Cairo and what happens when they meet again at NCIS five years later. Set at the beginning of season 3 in 2005, and in Cairo in 2000. Ziva/Jenny pairing. Title is taken from the song by Adele.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Storm Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing related NCIS - just borrowing the characters for a while. I'll put them back when I'm done.....  
> The title was taken from the song by Adele (which I don't own either!) but this isn't a song fic.

Jenny Shepard sank down into her chair, kicked off her heels and leaned back, closing her eyes. It felt like someone was twisting a dagger in the side of her head, and her feet ached. She cursed herself. Wearing a brand new pair of three-inch heels for a fifteen-hour day at work had not been a good idea. She stood up and fetched a glass and a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet, and poured herself a generous measure. It wouldn’t help her feet – or her head – but she was past caring. 

She grimaced as the first mouthful of fiery liquid hit her stomach, and slipped off her suit jacket, throwing it over the back of the chair she had just vacated. She looked around her. She had worked so hard for this. The brownstone house in Georgetown with its dark wooden floors, leather armchairs and luxurious furnishings was all hers. It was her statement to the world of who she was and what she was, but it was also her refuge, a place of safety and comfort when she needed one. Her salary as the new Director of NCIS had made it possible. Tonight, for the first time, she wondered whether it had all been worth it. Her first four weeks in the post had been hell. 

She shook her head at herself, and took another mouthful of bourbon. It always had this melancholy effect on her. She had never been able to work out if it was the drink itself, or the man who had introduced her to it. She grimaced again. Once her superior in the field, Gibbs was now her lead agent. The role reversal had not gone down well, and the timing could not have been worse with his team – what was left of it – in turmoil and hunting the killer of one of their own. She supposed that, had the circumstances been reversed, she might not have made things particularly easy either. Finding out your former lover was now your boss was not a situation she had ever had to deal with. 

She sat back down with her drink and closed her eyes. It was pitch black outside, the air muggy and close, and the single lamp that lit the living room cast soft light and shadows over the bookcases and soft chairs. A delicious smell was coming from the kitchen – Noemie had put lasagna in the oven before she left for the evening – but for now she was too hot and tired to eat. She let her mind wander, a random train of thought from Gibbs to a Paris safe house to a barn in Serbia, to the Director’s office that was now hers. She had made it clear to Gibbs once more that their relationship was now strictly professional. Rightly or wrongly, she had made that decision a long time ago, and Jenny Shepard was not given to changing her mind. 

Her thoughts moved over the past month. Agent Todd’s death at the hands of Ari Haswari had unexpectedly brought someone else back into her life, but this one she was not prepared for. She had not seen Ziva David since the joint NCIS-Mossad operation in Cairo five years before. She opened her eyes and sipped her drink. She had known Ari was Ziva’s half-brother, and she had her suspicions about how he had finally died. Her decision to bring Ziva back to NCIS as liaison officer was not one she could easily explain. It was not a position that the agency had ever had before. It was not one that they really needed, and it certainly was not one – at the present time – they wanted. It was her first major change as director, and she did not want anyone realizing that her main reason for taking it was probably personal. 

Damn, it was hot. Jenny stood up to open a window and stood by it for a moment, breathing in the night air. It didn’t help much. Even with the streetlights now burning brightly she could tell the sky was heavy with clouds. She turned away, intending to refill her glass, when a knock on her front door stopped her in her tracks. She stiffened, automatically reaching for the gun she still kept in her jacket. Moving quietly out into the wide hallway towards the door, she took a look through the peephole and stepped back as she realized who it was. Her stomach did a quick back flip. The bourbon? Or something else?

‘Ziva’. 

‘Shalom, Jenny’. 

The younger woman was dressed in combat pants and a sleeveless top, her brown curls falling around her shoulders. Jenny’s skirt and blouse suddenly felt hot and constrictive, and she wished she had bothered to change when she had got home. Still, it was a bit late now. 

‘Are you going to invite me in?’

Jenny gave herself a mental shake, and stepped aside, allowing Ziva to enter the hallway before closing and bolting the door behind her. 

‘Is something wrong, Ziva?’

Ziva shook her head as she pulled off her boots, her warm brown eyes finally resting on Jenny. 

‘It is ok in this country to call in on an old friend, yes?’

Jenny couldn’t help but smile. ‘It’s eleven at night, Ziva.’

Ziva shrugged and returned her smile, her gaze wandering to the gun Jenny still held at her hip. 

‘I can go if you would rather not have company’. 

Jenny sighed, still smiling, and shook her head. She gestured to Ziva to follow her through to the living room where she put the gun back in her jacket, poured another two shots of bourbon and handed one over. Ziva took it, a dubious look on her face. 

‘Bourbon’, Jenny said as she settled herself on the sofa. Ziva raised her eyebrows, but said nothing and perched on the edge of an armchair across from Jenny. 

Jenny watched her for a moment, well aware that Ziva was watching her too, but maybe not being quite so obvious. She had not changed. The same dark brown eyes, olive skin, slim figure toned by years of military style workouts, the same curly hair falling across her shoulders. Jenny resisted the urge to reach out and run her fingers through it. Not even Ziva calls this late at night without a reason. She leaned forward, a questioning look on her face. 

‘Why are you here, Ziva?’


	2. Cairo I

_Cairo, 2000._

Jenny Shepard slumped into the chair by the desk, and looked around the room. As safe houses went, this one didn’t seem too bad. The usual worn furnishings were arranged neatly, and it was at least vaguely clean. She had been warned that electricity and water could be sporadic, which was a shame when the only form of air-conditioning was an ancient electric fan plugged in by the equally old television.  She reached over and switched it on, hoping and praying that it actually worked. After a few seconds of spluttering, it whirred to life, and Jenny sighed with relief. Even though she had managed to shower, her top was sticking to her, and the waistband of her loose combat pants rubbed uncomfortably against the sweat on her back. Her red hair was scraped back in a ponytail, but still her scalp prickled. She could hear the noise floating up from the street below, market traders shouting to customers and each other, dogs barking, the honking of horns and the odd siren in the distance. Not for the first time since arriving, she cursed under her breath and wondered why on earth she had agreed to this.

 

_You don’t say no to the Director, that’s why._ When theDirector of NCIS had called from Washington and informed her that a joint operation was taking place with Mossad in Cairo, she had expressed a polite, professional interest, but didn’t really understand why she was being informed. Mossad had tracked a target down to the Old City of Cairo, a target that NCIS had an interest in after a bomb had exploded on a US naval vessel off the coast of Egypt. It wasn’t until the Director had told her that it was a matter of ‘extreme prejudice’ that it slowly began to dawn on her why she was being read in.

 

_'You want me to go back undercover’._

_‘It’s only been a month since the Cole, Jenny. We cannot openly mount an operation of this kind in Cairo. Even with Mubarak in charge, the political situation is still too delicate’._

_‘You want me to go undercover and kill him’._

_‘You won’t be alone. We have agreed that Mossad will send an officer, they’ll lead the op. I’m aware that although you have done this type of work before, the Middle East is not your area of expertise’._

_Damn right it isn’t._

_‘So why me?’_

_‘You were a good field agent. You are experienced in undercover work. You are based in the Med anyway, and you understand what needs to be done’. The Director had paused. ‘It will be the last time’._

_‘What about my team, sir?’_

_‘I’m sure Rota will manage just fine without you for a couple of weeks, Jenny’._

And so here she was. Waiting in what felt like a hundred degree heat for a Mossad agent to show at a safe house in Cairo was not her idea of fun. She still could not quite understand why she had been given this mission. Her Arabic was basic at best, and she had not been undercover since being given her own team in Europe two years before. She had a feeling there was another reason, but what? She had no idea.

 

The knock on the door startled her out of her daydream, and she grabbed the gun she had placed on the desk. Before she could make a move to see who it was, she heard a key being placed and turned in the lock, and door opened slowly. She aimed, ready to fire, but lowered her gun as she recognized the face from her file.

 

 ‘You should not be so quick to lower your weapon’.

 

The Israeli accent was strong, the voice soft. The thought flashed across Jenny’s mind that she was even more beautiful than her photo. Like Jenny, she was dressed in trousers and a t-shirt, dark hair tied up in a ponytail, her brown eyes looking over the room, sizing both it and Jenny up in an instant. Jenny knew from the information she had been given that Ziva David was younger than her, but far more experienced. As she crossed the room to look out of the window, dropping her bag on the floor as she went, Jenny couldn’t help noticing her confident stride and slim figure. She told herself she was an agent. She was paid to notice.

 

‘You did not have any problems?’

 

 Ziva placed her own gun on the table as she spoke. Jenny shook her head.

 

‘You have checked the apartment?’ Ziva waved a hand in the direction of the bedroom and the tiny cupboard that passed for the bathroom. Jenny knew she was talking about bugs, and nodded.

 

Ziva stuck out her hand towards Jenny. ‘I almost forgot. Ziva David’.

 

‘Jenny Shepard’. Jenny took the other woman’s hand, and a slight tingle ran through her that had nothing to do with the fan, still whirring away in the corner.

 

‘So. You have been briefed’. It was not a question, but Jenny nodded again anyway. She watched as Ziva returned to stand by the side of the window, looking down on the street below.

 

‘We know where he is. We follow him. Find the weak spot in his routine’. She looked over at Jenny. ‘Then we use it’.

 

Jenny nodded again, and returned to her seat in front of the fan. The ghost of a smile crossed Ziva’s face.

 

‘It will get hotter before the weather breaks’.

 

‘It gets hotter than this?’ Jenny didn’t even want to think about it.

 

Ziva turned. The Magen David pendant around her neck flashed golden in the sunlight, and Jenny stared at it.

 

‘Uh….’

 

‘I never take my necklace off’. Ziva’s tone left no room for argument. ‘It can be hidden if necessary’.

 

Jenny watched as Ziva crossed to the bedroom and checked that room over too.

 

‘I will take the couch’.

 

She returned to the living room and began to sort through her bag, pulling out various items of clothing. Jenny tried to ignore the black underwear that Ziva left on the sofa and to concentrate on what the dark-haired woman was saying.

 

‘We keep to ourselves as much as possible. If we are questioned, I am Amirah Badat, native of Cairo.’

 

‘You have a passport?’

 

Ziva nodded. ‘You are you. Jennifer Shepard. My friend from my time at university in London. Hopefully the cover will not need to go any deeper than that’.

 

Jenny stood up. ‘And if it does?’

 

‘Then we are in trouble anyway’. Ziva picked up a fresh t-shirt and a pair of linen trousers and walked towards the bedroom.

 

‘Does keeping to ourselves mean we have to stay in here all evening?’

 

‘You are hungry?’ Ziva’s voice came through from the bedroom. She had not closed the door, and Jenny could see her toned back reflected in the mirror on the old-fashioned dressing table. She took a deep breath. This wasn’t like her.

 

‘Well, it’s after six. I haven’t eaten for twelve hours. So yes. I guess I must be hungry’.

 

Ziva reappeared, wrapping a muted silk scarf around her head and shoulders, covering the pendant.

 

‘Then we will go and get something. There are plenty of places nearby’.

 

She picked up her gun and tucked it in her ankle holster, indicating that Jenny should take hers as well. She reached into her bag and handed Jenny another scarf.

 

‘You may need to cover your shoulders. Parts of this area are quite traditional’.

 

Jenny took the scarf and draped it loosely around her neck, letting the soft material hang over her bare shoulders, and picked up her own gun from the table. She hesitated before tucking it safely away, but Ziva caught the slight pause.

 

‘You have something on your mind?’

 

Jenny took another deep breath. ‘Why exactly am I here, Officer David? It seems you have everything covered. Mossad does not need NCIS for this’.

 

Ziva smiled, and reached for the door.

 

‘NCIS wanted an agent here. If you are wondering why you in particular, that is easy. I requested you. And you may as well call me Ziva.’ She ignored Jenny’s shocked expression and stepped out into the hallway. ‘Since we are supposed to be friends, yes?’

 

Jenny swallowed. _Friends. Yes. Ah, hell._ She gave herself a mental shake and followed Ziva out into the dark hallway, making sure to lock the door behind her.

 

 


	3. Setting a Spark

_Why are you here, Ziva?_

Ziva leaned back in the chair, her brown eyes on Jenny’s face. Her expression was unreadable as she sipped her drink.

 

‘I just wanted to….uh…catch up? Is that the correct expression? With an old friend’.

 

Jenny nodded. ‘Hmm. And yes, that is the right expression. But I don’t think you usually do small talk, Ziva’.

 

‘You have a very nice home here’.

 

‘Thank you’.

 

‘You are enjoying your, uh….new post?’

 

 Jenny laughed. ‘Maybe not enjoying, exactly’. She did not elaborate.

 

‘How are you finding it? Working with Gibbs?’

 

‘Fine. Strictly professional’.

 

The ghost of a smile crossed Ziva’s face. ‘Gibbs knows that?’

 

Jenny nodded. She couldn’t resist a little gentle teasing. ‘And you’re not doing badly, Ziva. With the small talk’.

 

Ziva laughed. ‘It is one thing – one of the many things – I think I will have to get used to here. People should just get to the point’.  

 

Jenny raised her eyebrows, and Ziva’s smile faded.

 

‘Why am I here, Jen?’ The use of her nickname and the question both took Jenny by surprise, but she took care not to let it show.

 

‘I thought that was my question’.

 

‘I do not mean here’. Ziva gestured around the living room. ‘I mean here. Why did you bring me back to NCIS?’

 

Jenny was silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully.

 

‘For the same reason you requested me for Cairo’, she said at last. ‘You’re a good agent. NCIS needs good agents. Especially now’.

 

‘That is not the only reason I requested you for Cairo’.

 

Jenny raised her glass to her lips. ‘I know’.

 

‘You wanted me here because…..’

 

Jenny smiled.

 

‘Because I liked the look of your photograph. Because you intrigued me. I believe those were your reasons too?’

 

Ziva smiled and inclined her head in acknowledgement.

 

‘And….’ Jenny paused. She was not sure how far she should go with this. ‘I didn’t think you would want to be back in Mossad for a little while’.

 

She saw Ziva take a deep breath and clench her jaw. It didn’t take anything more to confirm Jenny’s suspicions that it had not been Gibbs who shot Ari at all.

 

‘You know?’

 

Jenny nodded, and Ziva looked away. Jenny remained silent, waiting and watching. She knew what that self-control was costing Ziva. It took every ounce of her own not to move over and wrap the other woman in her arms, but she knew that was not what Ziva wanted. It was a while before she spoke again.

 

‘I wondered if you had guessed’. She paused. ‘I did what I had to do. That is all there is to it’.

 

_Oh, there’s a lot more to it than that._ Jenny took care not to let her thoughts show in her face.

 

Ziva looked over at her. ‘I do not really wish to talk about it. Not tonight. You do not mind?’

 

 Jenny shook her head. ‘Of course not. But… Ziva?’

 

Ziva nodded. ‘I know.’

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Jenny looked down at her glass and sighed.

 

‘You know, I probably shouldn’t drink any more of this stuff on an empty stomach’. She stood up. ‘Noemie left a lasagna in the oven earlier. Want to join me?’

 

She caught Ziva’s hesitation and impulsively held out her hand.

 

‘You can’t leave me to eat it all myself’.

 

Ziva laughed, and drained her glass. She took Jenny’s outstretched hand, and allowed herself to be led to the kitchen. Jenny hoped her little intake of breath as Ziva’s fingers touched hers had not been noticed. She reluctantly slipped her hand free, and busied herself fetching plates and forks, setting them on the kitchen table and lifting the lasagna out of the oven. Ziva placed her empty glass on the counter top.

 

‘Can I help?’

 

Jenny pointed at a cupboard. ‘I have mint and fennel and some other herbs in there. You could make some tea for afterwards if you like’.

 

She was rewarded with another smile. ‘You remembered’.

 

‘That mint and fennel is your favourite tea? Hard not to. You drank it non-stop in Cairo’.

 

‘At least it meant I did not get sick from drinking the tap water’.

 

Jenny grimaced at the memory. ‘Not my finest moment’, she admitted.

 

Ziva gave her a quick, flirtatious smile. ‘It did not put me off’, she said quietly.

 

Jenny looked over at her, her eyebrows raised, but Ziva was busy rummaging in the cupboard for the herbs. She turned back to the salad she was chopping, and forced herself to concentrate. _Before you slice your finger instead of a tomato._

 

They did not talk much over dinner, but Jenny saw Ziva slowly relax as she ate, and realized that her own headache had disappeared. As she cleared away their empty plates, Ziva finished making the tea, and poured a mug for both of them to take back through to the living room. The window was still open, and a gentle breeze blew the scent of rain into the room. A storm was brewing somewhere. Jenny shivered slightly, and walked over to close it before carrying her mug back to the sofa and settling herself at the opposite end to Ziva. As they sipped their tea, Jenny heard the first large, heavy raindrops begin to fall outside.

 

‘Like Cairo’, she murmured.

 

Ziva looked over at her.

 

‘The rain’, Jenny said in explanation. ‘Warm rain like this always reminds me of Cairo’.

 

‘It reminds me too’. Ziva’s voice was quiet, husky.

 

Jenny took another sip of tea. Her heart was beginning to thud and she felt a twinge of nerves mixed with strange excitement.

 

‘In Cairo. You said we should not….. we had a job to do. I agreed with you’.

 

Ziva nodded. Her dark brown eyes, almost smoky in the low light, burned into Jenny.

 

‘It was not my finest moment’, she murmured, echoing Jenny’s words from earlier.

 

‘You regret it?’

 

‘Of course’.

 

‘And yet you avoided me afterwards in Tel Aviv’.

 

‘I was busy’. Ziva paused, and looked down at her mug. ‘And….I was not sure’.

 

‘Sure about what?’

 

‘You. And myself’. Ziva lifted her gaze to meet Jenny’s. The slightly guarded expression she usually had in her eyes was gone. ‘I have slept with women before, Jen. But you were different. I did not just want that with you’.

 

‘What did you want?’

 

‘Something more. It scared me’.

 

Her brutal honesty made something snap in Jenny, some small thread of doubt that had made her hold back. She slowly, deliberately leaned over and placed her mug on the coffee table, before moving to kneel on the floor in front of Ziva. She took the Israeli’s mug from her hands and placed it next to her own on the table. She took one of Ziva’s hands in hers, and reached up with the other to run her fingers through the dark curls.

 

‘And now?’

 

Ziva nodded, leaning into Jenny’s fingers, the contact making both of them take a sharp breath. Jenny’s voice was barely above a whisper.

 

‘So are we going to use the same excuse again?’


	4. Cairo II

Jenny sat at the old wooden dressing table in the bedroom, slowly brushing out her wet hair. It was dark out and raining hard, fat, heavy raindrops that were almost tropical in their intensity and warmth. She could not hear much noise from the street below above the drumming of the water, and realized that it was later than she thought. Ziva was still in the shower. Jenny winced as she caught sight of her scraped and bruised arm in the mirror, although it looked worse than it felt. _At least we got him. Eventually._ Tomorrow, they would be out of here and flying back to Tel Aviv for a short debrief. Her flight back to Spain was scheduled to leave the following morning. Considering how little she had wanted this assignment, she should have been looking forward to returning. But the thought left her feeling strangely empty and, deep down, she knew why. Every so often, she could hear a drop of rain spatter on the windowsill, but she made no move to get up and close the window. It was still too hot. And she liked the sound. It seemed to soothe her, and matched her mood.

_***************************_

_The streets were quiet. The call to prayer on Friday afternoon had seen shop fronts closed, cafes shut and a stream of people headed towards the mosques. They followed their target towards the Al-Nour mosque before he slipped between houses and down a side street. Ziva had indicated that she would cut round to the side while Jenny stayed behind. Halfway down she saw his hand slip to his pocket. She had no time for a conscious decision. Her reflexes took over, and she threw herself down and across the nearest doorway as she heard the bullet whistle past her. Reaching for her own gun, swearing under her breath, she sat up and twisted round just in time to see him fall forwards, the gun dropping from his grasp. She saw a glint of metal protruding from his back before Ziva appeared in one of the open doorways, her gun drawn, pointing down at the prone figure. She knelt down and checked for a pulse before her eyes met Jenny’s. Mission accomplished._

By the time they returned to the safe house, the sun was setting behind gathering storm clouds, the crowds of people thronging the streets on their way back from prayers. Jenny sat on the worn sofa, listening to the noise outside. She felt suddenly drained, her mind fuzzy. She looked at Ziva, busy searching through her bag for something, and realized that she no longer had the knife with her. She must have dumped it along the way.

 

‘I haven’t seen anyone throw a knife like that before’.

 

Ziva did not look up. ‘I always carry one’.

 

Jenny resisted the urge to laugh. ‘You’ve never met a Leroy Jethro Gibbs, have you?’

 

‘What?’ Ziva looked up this time, having apparently found what she was looking for. She walked over to Jenny, a small tube in her hand.

 

‘Never mind’.

 

Ziva knelt down on the floor in front of her, unscrewing the top from the tube.

 

‘Take off your top’.

 

‘What?’

 

Ziva held up the tube. Tea tree cream.

 

‘Take off your top. Or shall I do it for you?’

 

The butterflies that had taken flight in Jenny’s stomach when Ziva had knelt down started doing backflips. _Yes please._

‘Ziva, you don’t need to……..’

 

She broke off as Ziva put the cream on the floor and reached towards her. Her deft fingers began to undo the buttons on Jenny’s light blue shirt, a slight frown of concentration on her face.

 

‘Relax, Jen’.

 

‘You’re undoing my shirt and you want me to relax?’

 

‘Yes. Relax’.

 

Jenny closed her eyes and took a deep breath as Ziva’s fingers lightly brushed her shoulders, pushing the shirt down Jenny’s back. She winced as she felt the cold cream on the top of her arm. When she opened her eyes, she saw that she had badly scraped her arm and hipbone when she had thrown herself to the ground. There was also a bruise coming up on her ribs. The blue shirt was filthy and torn on the sleeve. Ziva’s fingers gently massaged cream into the angry, slightly bloody scrape on her arm before she moved her hand down to rest on Jenny’s bruised rib, just underneath her bra. She ran her thumb across the dark purple stain already spreading beneath the skin.

 

‘I should not have left you in the alley’. Her voice was quiet, angry.

 

Jenny wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

 

‘Ziva, you probably saved my life’.

 

‘It should not have happened’.

 

‘Our mission was to kill him. You have’.

 

Ziva shook her head. ‘You should never have got hurt’.

 

Her fingers moved down to Jenny’s hipbone, soothing the sore skin. Jenny’s heart was thudding, and she could feel Ziva’s fingers trembling slightly. She slowly reached out her uninjured arm and ran her fingers through the younger woman’s dark hair. Ziva looked up at her, her brown eyes burning, and Jenny leaned forward. She almost gasped as she felt Ziva’s fingers move upwards again, to the swell of her breast above her bra. _We’re still working. We shouldn’t be doing this._

‘We should maybe not…..’ Ziva’s voice was a whisper, breathless, even as her lips brushed Jenny’s.

 

Jenny pulled away, fighting every instinct in her body that was screaming at her to carry on. They looked at each other for a moment, breath shallow, hearts racing.

 

‘We still have a job to do’. Ziva’s voice was quiet. She stood up, handing the tube of cream to Jenny. ‘You take the first shower. Then put some more cream on. It will help with the bruising’.

 

Jenny obeyed. As she stood under the pathetic trickle of warm water, she took several deep breaths, trying to bring her body back under control. She knew Ziva was right, but it didn’t help. Neither did it help knowing that the feelings that had been building up inside her for the past three days were reciprocated, at least to some extent. She gave up trying to rinse the last traces of shampoo from her hair and switched off the shower, taking another deep breath. She could be professional about it. She didn’t really have a choice.

 


	5. Fire in the Rain

_Are we going to use the same excuse again?_

Jenny knelt in front of Ziva, her eyes searching the other woman’s face, her hand still tangled in Ziva’s hair. In those few seconds she saw every emotion cross her face. Relief, fear, need, desire. She knew her own expression was probably betraying the same feelings.  As she moved her fingers, tracing the line of Ziva’s cheekbone, she saw Ziva’s eyes darken and she slowly shook her head.

 

‘I do not think I could walk away a second time’.

 

‘Do you want to?’

 

Ziva shook her head again, reaching out to cup Jenny’s face in her own hands. Their lips met, tentatively at first, and then the kiss grew deeper as first Jenny, then Ziva opened their mouths to allow the other in further. Ziva slid down from the sofa on to Jenny’s lap, straddling her, pulling Jenny closer to her, and Jenny gasped at the feel of Ziva’s breasts pressed against hers. As they pulled apart, their breath coming in hard, shallow gasps, Ziva reached for the top button of Jenny’s blouse, and then paused.

 

‘Are you sure about this?’

 

Jenny nodded and Ziva smiled, a slow, sexy smile that made Jenny grateful she wasn’t standing up. She began to undo the buttons, her eyes following her fingers, taking it so delightfully, torturously slow that Jenny almost moaned, and closed her eyes. She was dimly aware of the rain outside, teeming now, but the sound mingled with her own pulse pounding in her ears until she could no longer tell which was which. She felt the blouse being pushed off her shoulders, and Ziva’s lips tracing a line from her jaw down her collarbone to the top of her breast above her bra, her fingers following. Jenny gasped as those fingers ran lightly over the lace to find her already hard nipple underneath, and she felt Ziva smile.

 

‘You are beautiful’.

 

Jenny opened her eyes and lifted Ziva’s chin up so that she could kiss her again, letting her own hands run over Ziva’s small, firm breasts and the toned stomach underneath her top. Gently, she pulled the top up over Ziva’s head and unhooked the black bra, letting it fall to the floor. She felt heat pool in her stomach as her eyes and hands took in the hard, light brown nipples and the perfect mounds of Ziva’s breasts, and she felt rather than saw Ziva smile again.

 

‘My turn’.

 

Ziva reached round and deftly unhooked Jenny’s own bra, lowering her head to take a nipple in her mouth. Jenny moaned as her tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, her hands moving down to the waistband of Jenny’s skirt. Closing her eyes again, Jenny felt Ziva’s hands move round her hips, gently pushing her back so that she was lying on the rug. She felt Ziva’s hand move under her skirt, stroking her thigh, and a low moan escaped her. Part of her wanted to stop, to let Ziva catch up and to take this first time slowly, but she wasn’t sure she could. Every nerve ending was tingling under Ziva’s touch, and her lips were leaving what felt like a trail of fire across Jenny’s breasts. When Ziva pulled back, Jenny moaned again at the loss of contact.

 

‘Too fast for you?’ Ziva voice was husky, her breath shallow. Jenny opened her eyes and shook her head, smiling at the look of concern on Ziva’s face.

 

‘You seem to have a bit of catching up to do, though’. She indicated Ziva’s combat pants, still firmly in place while her own skirt was halfway up her thighs. Ziva smiled again and stood up, slipping her pants down her legs before reaching down for Jenny’s hand, gently pulling her up and on to the sofa. Jenny lay back, letting her eyes roam over Ziva’s slim, toned body as Ziva slipped her skirt from her waist. She moved back to straddle Jenny’s hips, and Jenny gasped as she felt the wetness between Ziva’s legs through her black panties. 

 

‘I do not think I have that much catching up to do’, Ziva murmured as she lowered her head to claim Jenny’s mouth in another searing kiss. Jenny let her hands follow the contours of Ziva’s back, round her hips and between her legs. The feel of Ziva’s hot, wet folds underneath the black cotton almost sent her over the edge, and her little cry did not escape Ziva’s attention. She felt Ziva’s fingers entwining with her own, moving her hand back above her head to rest on the arm of the sofa, and Ziva’s voice in her ear, her breath soft.

 

‘I want to hear you come first’.

 

Jenny struggled for control as Ziva slipped her other hand under the waistband of Jenny’s panties. She felt Ziva’s ragged breath on her ear, heard her groan with desire as her fingers stroked Jenny’s swollen, throbbing center and saw her eyes darken as she moved back slightly to look at Jenny’s face. Her eyes held Jenny’s as she slipped first one, then two fingers inside her, her thumb still gently working on the swollen bud. Jenny could feel herself tightening as Ziva pushed deeper, their eyes locked, unable to look away. As she moved her hips against Ziva’s fingers and felt the feelings of ecstasy begin to pulse through her body, Jenny finally closed her eyes and gave in to a hard, shuddering climax that was beyond anything she had experienced before. As she slowly relaxed, her breath still coming fast, Ziva slipped her fingers out from between her legs, smiling when Jenny moaned.

 

‘That was….’

 

Ziva pulled Jenny up and into her arms, holding her close.

 

‘Incredible?’

 

Jenny nodded. ‘Something like that’, she managed. She inhaled the warm scent of Ziva’s skin. ‘Pretty much perfect, actually’.

 

Ziva pulled back, mock indignation on her face.

 

‘Pretty much?’

 

Jenny laughed, getting up off the sofa and holding out her hand. ‘You know what they say about practice. Bed might be more comfortable for what I had in mind’.

 

************************************ 

 

‘Will you stay?’

 

Jenny felt Ziva shift towards her in the darkness, their bodies touching.

 

‘Well, I walked here. So unless you are going to drive me home….I would like to stay’.

 

Jenny laughed softly and reached over, pulling Ziva even closer. She already loved the feel of her, the way their bodies seemed to mold to one another. She had no intention of letting Ziva go anywhere tonight.

 

‘I didn’t mean now’. She felt Ziva’s questioning gaze even in the dark, and pulled away slightly, becoming serious. ‘I meant….will you stay at NCIS?’

 

‘I have orders, Jen’. Ziva sounded slightly confused. Jenny lifted herself up on one elbow, looking down.

 

‘And if you didn’t?’

 

Ziva’s voice was quiet. ‘Then I would still want to stay’.

 

Jenny was silent for a moment. ‘Have Mossad replaced you in the field?’

 

Ziva nodded. ‘Malachai Ben-Gidon’. Jenny caught the hint of distaste in her voice before she admitted, ‘He is good’. She paused. ‘But of course he may only be temporary. If you decide that you no longer want me here’.

 

Her voice was light, teasing, but Jenny realized she was being serious.

 

‘You think I would do that?’

 

‘You do not have any obligation, Jenny. You do not need to protect me. And if things do not work out between us…..’. What she left unsaid seemed to hang in the air.

 

Jenny shook her head. ‘Hold on, Ziva. I think I can be a bit more professional than that’.

 

Ziva sat up, looking down at Jenny.

 

‘I do not want to make things awkward, Jen. Combining work with a relationship is never easy. And this is new to me’.

 

Jenny sighed. It didn’t help that, deep down, she was just as unsure as Ziva.

 

‘It’s new to me, too’, she finally admitted. ‘But I want you to stay’. She paused. ‘I didn’t want to carry on like before, Ziva. Seeing your name come up in briefings, knowing you were putting your life in danger every day…..’

 

‘It’s what I do, Jen’.

 

‘…..Without me there’.

 

‘You do not need to protect me.’

 

‘I don’t need to. But….I want to try’. She felt Ziva’s gaze on her in the darkness. It was a while before the Israeli spoke.

 

‘It may be a little late for this, but maybe we should try and take things slowly? One day at a time. Perhaps we can make it work?’

 

‘I hope so’, Jenny whispered.

 

She felt Ziva shift across the bed before she pulled her down into a tight embrace that told Jenny she hoped so too.  

 

‘Then I am glad I came over tonight’.

 

Jenny laughed. ‘So am I’. She kissed the top of Ziva’s head and closed her eyes. Outside, the torrential rain from earlier had eased to a steady, hypnotic drizzle. Sleep was finally taking over.

 

‘So am I’.

 


End file.
